Standing on the Scaffold
by musicmaineac
Summary: It has been ten years since the public executions of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald and Ginny Weasley. Pureblood Ayn is still having nightmares about the day she had to witness their deaths. But is there some detail about that autumn morning that
1. The New Look Of London

_His hands were tied behind his back with a rough and dirt encrusted rope. The lacerations around his wrists stung as the prickly rope brushed against his skin. The blisters from his burns on his fingertips had become infected and now oozed with puss. Rather than watch his friends being shoved and bullied up the scaffold, Harry attempted to look at the pebbles on the ground. A masked Deatheater yanked his head upward with a rough tug on his hair that made Harry's scalp burn. _

_The time of his own execution was growing closer. He had begged Voldemort to let him be hanged with his friends. He should have known that the Dark Lord would not allow Harry to have one final, yet small, triumph over him. _

_Harry was now kneeling in a square near Diagon Alley awaiting the execution of his best friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Ron and Hermione would not be allowed the "hero's death" that they deserved. Voldemort did not want them to appear to be martyrs to a great cause. In order to portray Ron and Hermione as traitors to all of Wizarding Britain, Voldemort waited to kill them. He held a trial where boxes full of "evidence" were brought forward to condemn Ron and Hermione to their deaths. They were to be hanged in public. _

_Harry was given the same sort of trial. Evidence was given and Harry was even allowed to have an attorney. None of this mattered of course, he would be found guilty no matter what._

_Voldemort wanted to have the honor of killing his archenemy. Therefore, Harry would be killed by the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra. But of course, Harry would have to be tortured first, and Voldemort included watching his friends die part of Harry's torture. _

_Voldemort sat in a moth eaten brocade arm chair on a balcony over looking the square. The Dark Lord's pet Nagini was lounging around his shoulders and hissing into his ear. The pair had been in the same seat the previous morning when Ginny Weasley was executed. She had been charged with carrying the child of a traitor. Harry Potter's child. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all forced to watch Ginny's murder. _

_Harry squinted his eyes as nooses were placed around Ron and Hermione's necks. He did anything he could to not look his friends in the eyes. The previous morning Harry had been numb as the stool was kicked out from beneath Ginny's feet. Hermione and Ron were still with him then and he had been separated from Ginny for over a month. This had all made it seem unreal._

_Hermione's hair was pulled away from her face and Ron's hair had been trimmed so that everyone in the square could see their eyes. Voldemort had hand picked who would be forced to witness the executions. He wanted certain people to know that he would tolerate nothing._

_Tears began to stream down Hermione's face. Her breathing was erratic and her sobs drowned out the murmurs in the crowd. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry we failed you. I'm sorry we were stupid enough to fall for his trap. Never let it happen again." She screamed between sharp intakes of air. _

_Ron's bindings prevented him from holding Hermione's hand. Instead he whispered, "I love you Hermione." He was holding back tears. _

"_Enough!" Lord Voldemort's voice rang throughout the cold air. And with a wave of his wrist, the stools that Ron and Hermione were standing on were kicked out from underneath them. Harry closed his eyes. _

Ayn clutched her sweat stained silk night shift. She breathed in deeply as she sat up which resulted in a sputtering cough. Her arms were covered in goose bumps and her wiry legs were caught in the bed sheets. It had been a dream. It was a dream just like it always was, Ayn reminded herself.

She slipped out from under the covers and duvet and walked across the room to the balcony. Her feet made a light pat patting noise on the wide wooden plank floor. She pushed the sliding door open a foot, just enough to slip through, and closed it silently behind her. Ayn didn't want to wake him.

A light breeze whipped the ruffled hem of her night gown around her knees and twisted her mahogany hair around her ears. The sky had a smokey blue tinge to it.

Ayn leaned on the railing and peered out at the cityscape. The crumpling and ancient Tower of London caught her eye first. It appeared stark white against the dingy shacks surrounding it. The Muggle section of London was falling into greater disrepair every day. The Parliament Building and Big Ben had been burnt down recently, and when she walked across Tower Bridge on a windy day, Ayn could still just barely smell the ash from the blaze. Even the once mammoth London Eye was falling apart. Another of its huge compartments had fallen into the Thames the week before. The sound of the sliding door opening caused Ayn to look away from the Muggle quarter.

"I didn't mean to wake you." He wrapped his arms around Ayn's delicate shoulders and pulled her close to him.

"It's okay." She inhaled deeply. He smelled like the remnants of her sister's failed dinner and the shampoo he used. "Did you have the same dream again?" Ayn nodded into his shoulder.

"How did you know?" A strand of his jet black hair fell in-front of his face.

"You always come out to the balcony after you have that dream."

"After seeing her cry again I always need some fresh air."

"I always thought the balcony would be the last place you would want to be."

"I know. But it helps. It helps to know that London is still out there, even if it is not the way it used to be."

Ayn pulled away from his embrace and looked out at the city again. He followed her gaze. They both stared at the large black V-shaped building that loomed over Buckingham Palace. There were four other buildings like it scattered throughout London. The one near Buckingham Palace was the Ministry of Defense. Only Deatheaters were allowed in that building on a regular basis. Otherwise you needed a permit and an appointment. Ayn had been inside the vast corridors of the Defense building multiple times before. No matter how many times she had walked to the conference room, it was always nerve racking.

"Why don't we go back to bed. The alarm won't go off for another few hours. You need some more sleep." Ayn nodded and followed him back into the bedroom.

Before resting her head on her down pillow, Ayn checked the time. The clock on the wall read four ten. The alarm in the kitchen would not go off for another two and a half hours at least. Unless of course something happened and a news bulletin was circulated. A small screen on the refrigerator flashed the pictures of criminals and special announcements about food and clothing stamps twenty four seven. If something important happened an incessant beeping would wake Ayn up, no matter the hour. Every home in the Magical quarter of London had one of them.

Ayn closed her eyes and an image of the Ministry of Defense flashed across her mind. She could feel his arms wrapped around her waist. She felt better already.


	2. Petitions

A low droning buzz signaled that it was six forty and time for Ayn to drag herself out from underneath the warm duvet. She rolled on her back and let the alarm buzz for a few more minutes before getting up to turn the obnoxious noise off. The screen lodged in the refrigerator door flashed the morning news. A light haired wizard announced the latest information about food and clothing stamps as Ayn sipped on a tepid cup of coffee.

"Availability of Wizarding sweets will increase two hundred percent in the Magical quarter this season. Fall clothing stamps will be distributed tomorrow. All petitions to transfer stamps to family members must be received by the Ministry of Food and Health no later than midnight next Monday." There was no real point to watching the news. It was all a bunch hocus pocus. Chocolate frogs and the like would still only found in specialty shops, where they were grossly overpriced, or on the black market. Only Deatheaters and those in Voldemort's inner circle would be allowed to transfer their clothing stamps to other people; the remaining petitions would be rejected.

The remaining coffee in Ayn's mug sloshed out of the sides as a large ginger cat hopped up on the kitchen counter. It swayed it's thick voluminous tail through the coffee and dregs on the counter before jumping into Ayn's arms.

"Are you hungry G?" G nuzzled his flattened face into Ayn's shoulder and purred contently. "You'll just have to wait until I get out of the shower."

Draco would be awake soon. He had somehow figured out how to block out the buzzing alarm. The flat was always too quiet when he was still asleep. Even G was quiet as he splashed the coffee on the counter with his paw. Rather than take a shower, Ayn walked out to the balcony again. That's when she noticed the light pat-pattering of rain on the roof. The balcony floor was damp and a heavy mist was thrown into Ayn's face. It was naturally raining already, the weather would be lousy the rest of the day.

Without taking a shower, she wanted to save the hot water for Draco, Ayn tossed a cashmere heather gray shift dress on over a charcoal and white stripped turtleneck. Everything Ayn owned was either gray, black, white, or green. Green, the color of associated with Slytherin was now the only color allowed to be worn on a daily basis.

Ayn closed her eyes and listened to the running water in the bathroom. Draco was awake. The wheat flake cereal Ayn munched on tasted stale. She was too tired to get up and cook something. Her dream last night had shaken her up. Ayn had not had any dreams relating to the trio's execution in at least three months. Not since they had gotten the permit.

Everything required a permit. If you had to go to another county you needed a permit. If you wanted glasses to read you needed a permit. If you wanted to brew a certain potion or stay out later than dusk you needed a permit. You even needed a permit if you wanted to have a child. Only purebloods and select half-bloods were given these permits. Magical Muggles were forbidden to have children. If anyone who didn't have a permit became pregnant, they either had to hope they miscarried or enter Muggle London and have an abortion.

Draco and Ayn had gotten their permit three months before. After being married for six years they decided they were ready to be parents. They had celebrated for the first week after receiving the parchment signed by Lord Voldemort himself. Ayn and Draco expected Ayn to become pregnant right away and in less then a year have a beautiful baby to take care of. Ayn had stayed up late at night talking to Draco about taking their child to the country and the zoo and teach them how to swim and walk. But that had not happened. After three months Ayn was showing no signs of being pregnant and Draco had almost lost any inkling of hope that he would be a father.

"Good morning." Draco leaned in and kissed Ayn gently. She was always quiet after one of her dreams.

"Morning." Draco was dressed in all black, which matched his hair. His cloak had a few holes in it and the hem was ragged. "You need a new cloak. I'll pick one up after work."

"You don't have to. I can go during my lunch break." Draco finished off his coffee and began to gather his things for work. He was expected to be in his office at seven o' clock sharp. As one of the Dark Lord's inner circle, Draco was allowed to Apparate. Even though he was no longer a Deatheater.

"You are not very good at bargaining. I'll go. I have to go to Diagon Alley any way. My wand needs a good cleaning." Draco shrugged his shoulders. If Ayn wanted to go he would let her.

"Just make sure you're caught out after dusk. The patrols are getter stricter. Especially after the Parliament building burnt down and the riots in the Muggle quarter." Ayn nodded. Another alarm from the kitchen screen buzzed to signal that Draco had to leave for work. Even the Dark Lord's favorite had to be on time.

"We will talk about the petitions when I get home. I think we should ask for some time off. Maybe go to Brighton for a weekend. You need to get away from London, love. We can use my mental health as an excuse. It worked last time. I need a break from filing all those reports and petitions."

"It's better than what you were doing before." Draco's features became clouded as Ayn brought up a touchy subject.

"You know what I think about what I did. I hated it. I will never forgive myself. But let's not talk about that now. We'll talk about going somewhere over dinner."

"How about Paris?" Ayn's ocean eyes glinted with hope.

"I don't think I'm ready for that. We have to make sure we will be safe." Ayn nodded slowly. "It will be okay. I promise." With a final kiss and a whisper of 'I love you' in Ayn's ear, Draco Apparated to the Ministry of Magic.


	3. The Censor Bureau

Ayn slipped on a pair of ballet flats and headed towards the bedroom to pull the bed together. G jumped off the kitchen counter and followed Ayn, leaving coffee colored footprints on the floor of the small flat. Draco had saved a small fortune to buy a bigger flat for when Ayn had a baby. They had talked about moving to the suburbs so the baby would have a backyard to play in. Obviously they had not moved. There was no point really.

"I'm sorry G. I have to go to work soon." G pushed a toy mouse towards Ayn's hand with his mushed face. She stared out the bedroom window towards The Ministry of Defense. The rain had stopped, for the time being. A final buzz was emitted from the screen in the kitchen. Time for Ayn to leave for work. She stroked G's bushy tail as she wrapped a gray angora scarf around her neck and threw on a hunter green winter coat. She anticipated working in the Muggle quarter later in the day. Ayn would have to blend in.

Ayn briefly glanced around the tiny apartment and gathered her things for work. She scratched G's head and Apparated to The Ministry of Defense.

Ayn strolled into her department with a pile of letters in her hand. She had picked up a few memos from an intern handing them out.

"Good morning Mrs. Malfoy. Mr. Rockford asked me to let you know that your assignment is on your desk. He won't be back from Whales for a few more hours. If there is anything I can help you with before you leave just let me know." Cymbeline Rockford's secretary smiled at Ayn. The young girl knew perfectly well that she wanted to be called Ayn. She had given up reminding the girl years before.

"Thank you. I'll be leaving soon." The girl returned to writing a note as Ayn walked away. She flicked her wrist with wand in hand and the ceiling light sprung on. A number of gadgets sprang to life and a miniature set of tea cups began to pour tea all over Ayn's papers. The back wall of her small office was covered in posters of wanted witches and wizards and old reports that could possibly be connected to the felons.

As she had expected, Ayn was assigned to find out the identities of a group of young men who had attacked a Deatheater the day before. The parchment on her desk was written in Cymbeline's handwriting. It appeared to be at least. He had probably ordered his secretary to write it with a charmed quill. Her assignment was possibly dangerous and Ayn should have been accompanied by Cymbeline but he was too busy chasing a few drugged up Muggles around Whales.

Ayn sifted through a pile of papers on her desk and pulled a few permits out from a talking self-filing cabinet. Ayn turned the lights out with her wand and the whirring and clinking of the magical miniatures ended. With her nose buried in the assignment report, Ayn shouted back to the secretary. "I'll be back in time to file a final report." Ayn continued to read as she followed a flow of people towards the building's elevator. She was shoved to the back of crowd and squished between a pair of sweaty overweight patrolmen. Ayn began to regret wearing so many layers.

"Good morning Ayn!" She glanced up from the report and looked around for whoever had greeted her. Dacre Archer smiled down at Ayn. His crooked teeth looked out of place in his otherwise handsome face. She had always suspected that he was jealous of Draco. It had become even more evident when he had practically ruined Ayn and Draco's ploy to end his career as a Deatheater.

"Good morning." Dacre peaked over at the report Ayn was holding. He grinned at her as she tucked the parchment into her bag.

"Anything interesting?" Ayn shook her head.

"Nope. Just standard Legilimency on a bunch of Muggles. Nothing special." The doors of the elevator swung open and Dacre pushed his way through the crowd. The buttons shaped like skulls lit up as the doors closed.

Dacre shouted back to Ayn as the elevator descended. "Let me know if anything interesting happens." Ayn nodded and turned back to her reading. After a few more stops, more shoving and a number of greetings, Ayn reached the entrance of the Ministry of Defense. The doormen checked her Department card marked B Censor Bureau /B , scanned her wand and opened the doors.


	4. The Bloodless

Ayn wrinkled her nose as the acrid smell of rotting eggs and burnt flesh replaced the scents of the Ministry building. Streams of sewage and dirty rain water slid down the sidewalk as Ayn walked towards the closest bus stop. A group of underfed children were herded across the street by an elderly couple. Rather than look the presumed grandmother in the eye and feel guilty, Ayn concentrated on stepping around puddles and rotten apples.

Steam billowed from the grates in the ground that led to what used to be part of the Underground. Now it was a refuge for the poor. Anyone who did not have enough money or stamps to rent an apartment, or part of a room, claimed part of the Underground as their home. Children played in the stairwells and the women washed their clothing in the occasional trickle of water that might seep out of the smashed bathroom sinks.

The flow of foot traffic shifted to the other side of the street as Ayn waited for the traffic light to change. Men and women in tattered clothing glanced at her from the corner of their eyes. They stared at the black snake twisted into the shape of a 'P' on Ayn's coat. Every person in Great Britain knew that Purebloods were allowed to carry fully functional wands and were always cautious around them.

A gaunt boy clung to his mother's skirt and whispered to his sister. "Do you see her! She's a bloodless I tell ya! A bloodless!" The rest of the London community had adopted the term "bloodless" after a rumor spread throughout the Muggle Quarter that Purebloods could never be killed because they had no blood.

"Don't talk about her! Be quiet!" The little girl reprimanded her brother and tugged on his shoulder. The little girl glanced backwards. Ayn was able to spot a single wand on her cloak. One wand signified a Muggleborn witch or wizard, two crossed wands signified a witch or wizard born into a magical family, and a large red 'M' signified a Mudblood. The moment anyone in a Mudblood family showed any signs of magic, the immediate family was shipped off to the Muggleborn Quarter of London.

As the small family and the loud mouthed boy walked away from Ayn, a shabby two decker bus pulled in front of her. The doors swung open and a red carpet rolled out from within the bus. Muggle buses were the only form of legal transportation between all magical quarters of London and the Mudblood Quarter, even for Ministry

workers like Ayn.

"Mrs. Malfoy please watch your step as you enter the bus. For your connivence we will not be making anymore stops until you have reached your destination. Unless there is of course an emergency. Please show your Censor Bureau I.D to the driver as you enter onto the bus and have a fabulous day." A house elf chained to the steps of the bus rattled off Ayn's welcome.

Ayn nodded and walked up the steps without a second glance at the house elf. Though they had been treated horribly before, with the rise of The Dark Lord house elves treatment had worsened tremendously.

The doors swung shut behind Ayn and the carpet rolled up as she took her seat. Only two other passengers occupied the other seats. An elderly woman slouched against the side of the bus and hung her head so her ratty and lice infested hair obscured her face. A well dressed Pureblood nodded towards Ayn as she looked around and returned to his Ministry Newspaper.

The bus chugged into motion and moseyed along towards the Mudblood Quarter. The dark, abandoned buildings separating the Magical Quarters from the checkpoints before the Mudblood Quarter looked especially dreary. A number of people circled around a fire in a rubbish bin which emitted more smoke than heat due to the drizzle. The lights inside the bus flickered as the driver maneuvered it through a tunnel. As the driver reached the end of the tunnel, a bright light filled the bus. Ayn shielded her eyes as the bus lurched forward and then stopped. The door swung open again and two young men in Deatheater robes entered the bus. The shorter of the two inched his way between the aisles towards the Pureblood gentleman. After a few seconds of muttered questions and answers and the rustle of documents being shown, the man moved on to Ayn.

"Miss. Do you have the proper documents, petitions, and I.D to be on this bus today?" The man kept his head down as he scribbled in his notebook.

"Of course." Ayn drew the proper papers from organized folders and shoved them in-front of the man's face. He studied them for a moment and looked up.

"Mrs. Malfoy! I had no idea you were on this bus! I'm so sorry. How are you? How is Draco? I heard that you have the papers for a baby Ayn! Bella and I are so happy for you! When is it due? Is it a girl or a boy? Have you picked out a name yet? You know when she is born, oh I'm already assuming it's a girl, she, not again, can play with Farley. She's gotten so big! Can you believe the grandparents wanted us to name her Casablanca! Then again they named their daughter Bellaruse." The man's questions went on and on. His rapid speech made Ayn's head spin.

"I'm not pregnant Zane." Zane Hess was the youngest son of a huge pureblood family.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He blushed slightly.

"It's fine. I will of course let you and Bella know once we know."

"That would be wonderful! Bella would love that. It is-" Zane's sentence was cut off the smack of the other man's hand across the old woman's check.

"Show me the documents now or we will deport you! Now!" The older woman fumbled as she searched through her purse frantically. "I don't have all day you damn Mudblood!" The Deatheater smacked her cheek and her chin whacked against the seat in front of her with a thwack.

The woman's shrieks were emphasized by the thin walls of the bus. The man stood over her with his wand shoved against her neck as she looked through her papers. "I have them! I have them I know it!" Tears mingled with the dirt streaked across her face.

"You don't have them! You never did! Get up! Up! Up!" The Deathearter jabbed the woman's arm with his wand and yanked on her hair. Her hole filled bag slapped against the rubber seat as she flailed her arms around. "Get up! Up!" The man dragged the protesting woman down the bus stares. Her green and orange flecked eyes stared at Ayn as her now limp body thumped down the stairs.

"I'm sorry you had to see that Ayn." Zane's eyes glanced towards where the woman's papers and nicknacks were scattered on the floor. As Zane turned to join his partner, the green snake looped into a 'P' on his Deatheater cloak glimmered.

The house elf crawled out from beneath its seat and gathered up the woman's belongings. A few feathers fluttered to the ground and the dull sound of fake galleons echoed as the elf dumped everything into the rubbish bin. From outside, Zane waved the bus driver forward. Ayn squashed her face on the window so she could see the woman, Zane and the nameless Deatheater in the bus' mirror. The woman's head was covered by a burlap sack and her wrists were tied together. Each Deatheater clamped onto her ratty cloak and Disapperated, most likely to the Deportation Camp and checkpoints, which the bus would soon be entering.


	5. The Tower

The bus slowed down as it entered the final tunnel. It's lights reflected in the puddles on the the cobblestone road and revealed rats scattering into the shadows. The driver rolled down his window and handed a guard his paper work. Ayn stared forward as the cloaked man shuffled through the papers before handing them back.

"You are good to go." His voice was low and gruff. A gate a few yards ahead swung open and the driver put the bus into gear. Muffled plashing barely echoed as the bus sped through the puddles. As the tunnel grew wider towards the end, a glaring light forced Ayn to cover her eyes.

The Deportation Camp.

Groans of prisoners blocked out all other noises. Ratty tunics hung on the bodies of the illegal immigrants, the unruly Muggles, the blood traitors, and petty criminals held in the cages next to the road. They would be shipped off to the islands off the Northern coast of Scotland. Naturally, no one ever returned. Occasionally a rumor was started that someone had attempted to escape, but they were never true. It was impossible. The security was better than it had been at Azkaban. Or so people said.

Ayn stared blankly out at the supposed criminals. A few had burlap sacks over their heads like the woman from the bus while others were kicked by the guards. One woman screamed as a masked Deatheater grabbed her child from arms and shoved him into a van. The boy was barely six and Ayn could see the affects of gangrene rotting away his left shin. The mother shook the bars and cried to the boy in what sounded like Gaelic. With a quick movement of their wands and a burst of green, the woman tumbled backwards onto other prisoners. Her limp body was shoved into the corner by a few men.

On the other side of the road, a group of men shook the sides of the cages in an attempt to escape. They had to be Muggles. Muggles were the only ones who wouldn't know the consequences. It was assumed by every witch and wizard that if you tried to escape from the Deportation Camp you would be dragged away and immediately executed in front of your family. The Dark Lord's minions had only grown more heartless over the years.

Another van rolled up to the back of a cage. A group of Deatheaters herded the people into the automobile while a bulky man prepared the van for travel by casting hundreds of charms and curses on it. The prisoners huddled together for warmth and tugged old newspapers around their shoulders. One of the men in the group was well dressed and appeared to have just been added to the group. He was most likely a blood traitor. Their deportation was considered a class one priority. After the last member of the group climbed into the back of the van, a Deatheater threw a hunk of moldy cheese and a leaking bottle of water in with them. The door was closed, locked, charmed, and cursed before the driver took off. Ayn hung her head and played with the buttons on her coat while the van drove away. This made her sick. But she had to hide it.

The bus made a left turn as it exited the tunnel and chugged through a final checkpoint. They had reached the Muggle Quarter. Ayn thanked the driver as she walked down the stairs and pulled out a parchment from her bag.

It read: _Richard Barnes, Lafferty McKenna, and Godfrey Reynolds of The White Tower must be questioned and if evidence is found against them, to be arrested._

Ayn quickened her pace along the familiar road leading to what was once the Traitor's Gate. She entered and was immediately surrounded by women selling withered carrots, smashed pots, worn pieces of leather for shoes, and T.Vs that barely turned on.

"Would you like to buy any thing from us? You look awfully hungry. I just made some stew!" A ginger haired woman shoved a bowl in Ayn's direction.

"No thank you. I am on official Ministry business." She flashed her badge in all the women's faces and pushed her way through the crowd. Ayn kept her eyes on the White Tower and clutched her bag close to her chest. Men and woman shouted about what they were selling on all corners and a crowd of children without shoes rushed by chasing a tailless cat. A pile of garbage reached up to the window's in the Bloody tower and dirty water trickled down a nearby wall. About six months before, a section of what was once Muggle London was converted into housing for the Muggle born families. Because of that change everyone living in that area was forced to move into the Tower of London. Trash was piled up everywhere, rations were never properly distributed, and Deatheaters lurked around every corner. A group swept by Ayn and nodded to her as they passed.

On the outside of the White Tower, a list of the occupants and the rooms they lived in was nailed into the wall. Years ago each floor had been divided into dozens of rooms and all of the historical artifacts had been destroyed by Voldemort himself. All three suspects lived on the second floor and were only rooms away from one another. Ayn climbed the winding staircase and once she reached the McKenna's room, knocked on the door. It opened inward and an extremely tall young man leaned outside.

"Yes?" His long hair was in need of a trim, or at least a wash, and his flannel shirt had holes where pockets should have been.

"I am looking for Lafferty McKenna. I'm from the Ministry and must speak to him about yesterday." Ayn held out her badge for him to inspect.

"I'm who your looking for. Please come in." He offered Ayn the only chair in the room, it was a little wobbly, and sat on the floor. "What do you need to know?"

"I just have a few questions for you." She grabbed a notebook from her bag and her wand that was disguised as a pencil. "Do you mind if I take notes?" He shook his head. "Good. Now can you tell me if you have ever had any trouble with the patrolmen here before?" Ayn leaned forward to appear to be interested in his answer. She in-fact wanted to get a better look into his eyes. He looked directly at her as his eyebrows knitted together.

"The people in the black with the masks? Well no I don't think so." He crushed a louse in his hair.

"Okay. Can you explain to me where you were last night between ten p.m and one a.m?" Ayn pointed her wand forward and poised it over her notebook. She locked eyes with Lafferty. "Legilimens." She whispered.

Ayn delved into the man's memories, searching for something that would tell her if he was one of the men who attacked the Deatheater. She saw his first day of school, games of football in the streets before curfew, and thousands of other memories. But nothing to do with the Deatheater's attack.

"Have a good day Mr. McKenna." The young man was sprawled across the floor, staring up at stone the stone ceiling and stuttering. Ayn whisked out of the room and jogged to the next man's room. His name was Godfrey Reynolds. She had no luck with him either. The Legilimens did not affect him as much, but he was still speechless when Ayn left.

She was left with one final suspect. One Richard Barnes. Ayn knocked on his door. From inside the sound of clattering pots and shuffling papers could be heard. "Mr. Barnes." Ayn knocked again. "I need to speak to you." The door opened.

"What?" The skin around his left eye was bruised and a cut seemed to divide his Roman nose in half.

"I'm from the Ministry. I need to talk to you." He turned around without another word and Ayn followed him. She took a seat next to his cot and pulled out her wand pencil again. "Do you mind if I take notes?" He shrugged his shoulders and flopped down on the mattress. Barnes' eyes never met Ayn's until she asked him about the previous night. "Can you tell me what you were doing between ten p.m and one a.m?" He looked directly at her and within that brief moment, Ayn flicked her wrist and muttered.

The usual sensation of diving into people's thoughts enveloped Ayn briefly before her head began to spin. She coughed and choked as her own thoughts were searched. Instead of visiting an old memory, Ayn came across a new one. Something she could not remember. A pair of cloudy blue eyes crossed into Ayn's mind and she could hear the stroke of a paintbrush on a canvas. The sound of the brush was violently interrupted by the crashing of china, shouts of "Crucio" and the ripping of paper. The noise faded until all Ayn could hear was the echo of her own name in a man's voice.

As quickly as it had started, the memory ended and Ayn found herself hunched over against the leg of a table. Barnes was gone along with the pile of papers that had been next to his bed.


	6. New Memories

Ayn tugged the deteriorating cardboard box from the back of the hall closet. She had not opened it in ten years. Once they were married, Ayn had promised that she would ignore parts of her past that Draco's parents, and the Dark Lord, did approve of. But she had a reason to look in the box, and she would explain everything to Draco later. Ayn dropped the box on the kitchen table as G nuzzled her bare legs.

She had called in sick to work the day before. After returning to the office, filing her report, and drinking a few cups of strong coffee, Ayn left the building. She had told the secretary that she would not be in the next day because her stomach had been upset that morning. The stupid girl crossed her fingers and grinned at Ayn. No matter how many times Ayn used possible signs of pregnancy as an excuse to get off from work, the girl always fell for it.

And now she sat in the damp kitchen in a nightgown and robe, staring at the box in front of her. G jumped up on to the table and nudged the box. Ayn swatted the cat away and opened the lid. A thick layer of dust covered the pictures, books, and clothes in the box. One by one Ayn cleaned every surface with a wet rag and studied the pictures.

The first frame held a painted portrait of Ayn. The medium was water color and the artist's signature was scribbled in the right hand corner. She placed the painting on a seat next to her and studied the next picture frame. The picture showed a happy couple sitting on top of one of the lions in Trafalgar Square. Ayn touched the picture gently and then turned it over. Ayn dug a little deeper into the box and pulled out a tarnished silver badge. She rubbed it clean and the letters S.P.E.W shone in the dim light. Ayn tossed the badge back in and looked at the picture again. A diamond ring glittered on the girl's finger as she waved to and the man hugged her around the waist. Both of them smiled at the camera and laughed. Ayn jumped at a knock on a door down the hall and G scratched at a closet door.

"Will you stop that?" G looked at Ayn and cocked his head to the side. Ayn shoved everything back into the box and used a levitating charm to place it back in the hall closet. After nibbling on a piece of toast, Ayn stretched out on the bed and dozed off to the sound of G purring.

"_Tilt your head to the side. Just a tad more. Perfect. Now your neck looks longer and more regal. Just like your mum wanted." Ayn giggled at the word mum._

"_Why do you insist on calling her that? She hates being 'mum'. Its mother or madame in your household." The man who had spoken earlier swished a brush into a cup of water and added a little more red to his pink paint. _

"_I've always called my mother mum so I think you should too. Its only natural." Ayn rolled her eyes. "Sit still. I'm almost done." _

"_Will I have it for the party tomorrow? He will be happy to add it to his collection of likenesses." _

"_Done. You can move now." Ayn scooped up the blanket at her feet, threw it around her shoulder, and walked over to look at the painting. _

"_Its beautiful. Much better than the others my father has payed for in the past." She leaned on the painter's shoulder. _

"_He doesn't have to pay for it. I already told him that." He looked up at her kissed her collar bone gently. _

"_Yes he does. How else are you going to continue living on your own?" Ayn's squinted._

"_Don't worry love. We'll be fine." He kissed her again. Ayn sighed and walked over to a table to collect her bag._

"_I have to go. I'm expected at the academy by four." Ayn dropped the blanket on the dingy floor of the studio apartment and stuck her arms through the sleeves of her coat. _

"_You're still taking lessons there? Is he as scary as people say he is?" The artist struck a match and lit a Muggle cigarette. _

"_How'd you know I was taking lessons with him?" _

"_Someone from my many rebellious artistic circles told me." They laughed at his sarcastic remark that imitated Ayn's father. _

"_He's not all that scary, well because I'm better than him. And he knows it." Ayn placed a finger over her lips. "But don't tell anyone. He has to put some of his memories in a Pensive before our lesson." Ayn checked her watch and made her way to the door. "I'll see you later tonight?"_

"_Of course! I love you Ayn." He whispered. _

"_I love you Hadrian." _

G continued to scratch the closet door in the kitchen as Ayn slept. The post owl swooped into the kitchen window and dropped a pile of letters on the counter. After seeing that no one was to be found in the kitchen, the snowy owl flew off into the rainy London afternoon.

_The crowd was quiet as it looked on at the scaffold set up in the middle of the square. The Dark Lord and his most trusted advisors sat on a balcony where they could see all of the square. Draco Malfoy was led by a house elf to a seat next to Voldemort. _

"_It is nice to know you finally decided to join us." Voldemort hissed. Draco bowed before sitting down._

"_Lucius was having another fit and Narcissa could not handle it. Both of their minds are going." Draco brushed we white blonde hair out of his eyes. "Where were they finally found?" _

"_In Brighton. Attempting to escape to Calais. What utter fools. The French will be punished for planning to protect them." The Dark Lord folded his hands. The clouds were low and created patterns on the road below. "The Weasley girl was going to have Potter's child. What utter filth that family is." Draco nodded. A string of less important prisoners were executed while Draco and Lord Voldemort spoke. "Have you considered finding a spouse Malfoy?" _

"_Yes my Lord." Draco muttered. _

"_Since that Parkinson mishap I suggest that you look for a wife in a family that is not native to the London area." Voldemort grinned beneath his hood. According to all the documents, a crazed Muggle from a neighborhood close to the Parkinson's home went crazy one night and shot all of them. Unofficially, Voldemort killed the entire family himself after Pansy refused to marry Draco, his protege. "I expect you to marry soon Malfoy. Within the year." Draco nodded as he half listened to the Dark Lord. _

"_Of course My Lord. Is there anyone you had in mind?" Draco shielded his eyes as the sun crept out from behind the clouds. _

"_The young woman over in the corner is the daughter of my Minister of Writ and Law, Iver, a Welshmen, who has recently moved to the city. Iver is looking for a suitable husband for his youngest daughter Ayn. Ayn Iver. She is the rebel of the family. He says she needs to be reined back in. The reckless girl spends all her time smoking cigarettes in the apartment of her fiancé. Iver and his wife want to separate them. Not only is he fifteen years older than her but he has been blasted by his family. Hadrian Rosier, he is distantly related to you through your grandmother. Chose not to directly support my cause and instead become a painter. He has no inheritance, is a suspected rebel, and Iver believes he only wants to marry Ayn for her money."_

"_When will I meet her." Draco stared at the back of Ayn's head. She and Hadrian looked happy, but that would soon end. _

"_Next week. Her father has enrolled her into the advanced Legilimens and Occlumency course at the academy. You will also be a student there. Their wedding is scheduled for the spring, You must marry her before the end of December Malfoy. Someone must take care of the Manor once your parents are no longer able to. Mentally." Voldemort leaned back in his seat as Potter and his companions were marched out into the square._

G shuffled the letters around with his paws and shoved a few onto the ground. On top sat a folded piece of parchment addressed to Ayn and Draco in emerald green ink.

_Hadrian tossed the remains of his cigarette into his glass of water and watched the ash float around. It was getting closer to midnight and he still had his painting for the Whitelocks to finish. The dog portrait was the first piece he had painted in two years that he would receive payment for. The rest of his time was spent at an underground library or on the roof of the studio sleeping. _

_Hadrian collected the paint brushes in front of him and moved to his workshop area. He paused at the creaking of the floor beneath him. This forced him to look at the closet door beneath the stairs that led to the roof. Hadrian put the dirty brushes in his pocket and opened the door. He had not been in the closet for over a year; he had promised his current girl friend that he would do his best to move on. But now that he actually had a commissioned work, he had to bring back some of the memories because Ayn had been his muse._

_He sat in the doorway with his back propped up against the frame and searched through the piles of pictures and sketches of her. Hadrian read over the letters she had sent him, the tickets to shows they attended, and the letter he wrote to her father apologizing for not being good enough for Ayn and all the trouble he had caused. He had never sent it. _

_He leaned back and thought about the last day he saw her. Ayn's hair had been wet from the rain and they had argued about the wedding. It was a brief fight with a lot of yelling and Ayn even threw a glass at one of his paintings. Even though they did not talk about her family often, he could tell that something had been bothering her about them for a few weeks. And all of sudden she was gone with the door a jar behind her. About three weeks later, Hadrian saw an announcement in the Daily Prophet about her marriage to Draco Malfoy. That was when he put all her stuff and anything about her in the closet. She never came back to get anything, she never wrote to him, and in the first few months after her marriage if she say him in the street she would look away. Deep down Hadrian knew it was better that way because no matter how times she claimed that she would never conform to Pureblood society ways, he knew that they were the unspoken reason behind her leaving._

_After putting everything back in place, Hadrian began to paint again. His brush passed over the paper when the sound of china crashing sent red paint flying. _

"_We already have your wand Hadrian. There is no point fighting now." Hadrian hung his head and placed his brushes on a nearby table. He cringed as the sounds of torture drifted into the studio. A Deatheater was torturing Hadrian's neighbor with 'Crucio'. "We've given you long enough Rosier. The only reason you've been allowed to live so long is because Mr. Malfoy felt guilty. Now the Dark Lord wants you dead." Hadrian knew that there was no way out of this. If Voldemort wanted you dead, you might as well take your own life before you can be tortured. _

_Hadrian was escorted outside to a van. As soon as the doors were closed, the driver started towards the Deportation Camp. _

Ayn's stomach heaved as she leaned over a trash-can. She didn't know how, but the man from The Tower had gotten into her head, and he wasn't leaving.


	7. To The North

Draco let his cloak tumble to the ground as he flopped onto the bed. He turned onto his stomach and smiled up at Ayn. She ran her fingers through his dark hair.

"I miss your real hair color." She continued to play with Draco's hair.

"We had to do it Ayn." Draco sighed.

"I know." After a long pause, Ayn attempted to get Draco to talk again. "How was work?"

"Boring. Better than what I did before though." Draco had been demoted to a small office job inside the ministry after his parent's deaths. He was still expected to go on Deatheater raids when summoned but the Dark Lord considered him "no longer worthy of serving him". If Draco had not married Ayn to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord, and make Ayn's father happy, he would have been killed years before. In an attempt to conceal his identity, Draco had dyed his hair to prevent people from noticing his Malfoy white blonde hair. "How was your day?"

"Interesting. I want to talk about it over dinner. I think it is important for you to know." Draco nodded and sat up. "There is an invitation on the table to a baby shower for one of my old school friends. Not from the Academy." Draco picked up the parchment and laughed.

"It reminds me of my Hogwarts letters. They were always on thick parchment and written in green ink." Ayn smiled. Draco rarely laughed anymore. "Do you want to go?"

"Of course. Its this weekend. Practically in Scotland. We would have to take the buses. Its too soon to send a petition to Apperate."

"We'll go then. Okay love?" Ayn nodded and got up to start dinner. G swirled his tail between Ayn's legs and then trotted over to the kitchen closet. He started scratching the door again.

Ayn watched Draco eat over the rim of her glass. He ate very slowly. Very proper. His eating habits screamed "pureblood". The markets were out of fresh greens so their meals consisted of potatoes and a skimpy piece of meat. After the Dark Lord had conquered Ireland, a huge influx of potatoes had flooded the market.

"Do you want to talk now?" Draco glanced up from his plate and Ayn nodded.

"Yesterday. When I went to the Tower, something really strange happened." Ayn furrowed her eyebrows. "The first two people I interviewed were affected as usual and I found nothing incriminating in their memories. But the last person. He. He." Ayn took another sip of water. "He was able to kind of. Fight back I guess. Like he knew how to use Occlumency. But. It was different then any form of Occlumency I've seen before. Instead of sifting through my memories, he placed one of his own in my mind." Draco looked up at Ayn. "It was of Hadrian. I know it was him. I think he's dead. Or if he's not dead already, they are going to kill him soon." Ayn let her fork drop to her plate with a clang.

"Are you sure it was him." Draco squinted his eyes.

"Yes. I'm sure it was him. Especially after today. While you were at work I fell asleep and had this sort of dream. It had to be a dream or somehow the suspect from yesterday placed another memory in my head. I know I haven't seen anything like this happen before. I dreamt that Hadrian was in his studio trying to paint something. And just when he was about to start, they came in and took him away Draco. They took him to the deportation station. They're going to kill him!" Ayn was hysterical. She tried to suppress her sobs but she just made sputtering sounds as she cried. Draco was silent.

"He was just trying to scare you Ayn. And it worked. I'm sure Hadrian is fine." Draco held out his hand to Ayn and brushed the tears from her face. "Its okay." Ayn nodded and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. You're probably right." Draco nodded.

"Now why don't you go take a shower while I clean up from dinner and then we'll talk about this weekend."

Later that night, Ayn lay awake with her back turned to Draco thinking about his reaction earlier and her past. She knew that he would not be happy. It was only natural for him to be upset when she brought up her previous fiancé. They had decided that they would attend the shower and would hopefully gain the permits to spend the weekend. She rolled onto her side and slipped her hands through Draco's hair, pulled the sheets closer to her and attempted to fall asleep.

Ayn ran G's bowl under the weak stream of water from the sink. It was the weekend and G would be alone for at least a day. The cat wound its tail around Ayn's leg and purred.

"We won't be gone too long G. I promise." Draco rushed into the kitchen with his Pureblood cloak on and paperwork sticking out of his pockets.

"Are you ready to go?" Ayn nodded and placed the bowl on the floor. She shook the water off her hands and dried them on a shabby towel.

"Let's go." With the click of the door, G was left alone as Ayn and Draco journeyed to Northern England to see an old friend.

Draco banged against the seat in front of them as the bus hit another pothole. There was at least another hour until they would reach the small northern town. It had been difficult not to speak to Ayn for so long. They had barely spoken since she had been hysterical earlier in the week about Hadrian and now she only stared out of the window. When they had passed through the deportation station in London, Ayn had searched the crowds for any sign of Hadrian without results. As the bus hit another pothole in the road, Ayn pulled her cloak closer to her body and Draco wrapped his arm around her waist. She leaned away from his and let her head rest on the window.

G scratched the hallway closet's door and sniffed the uneven crack between the door and the floor.

The taxi pulled up in front of the small house. There were no signs of a party inside. The house was dark, a thin wisp of smoke floated from the chimney, and the curtains were shut.

"Could you wait her for a few minutes please?" The taxi driver nodded to Draco. Even if the couple was a little strange, from their cloaks to their conversation, the driver would never turn down more money. The couple climbed out of the car and walked up to the house and knocked on the door. A thin man with a scruffy beard and large glasses opened the door.

"Excuse me. But I received an invitation for a baby shower here. Are we at the wrong address?" Ayn asked. The man sighed and scratched his chin.

"Did you get the second letter?"

"No."

"Well. I'm sorry but my wife had a miscarriage." He looked down at his shoes.

"I'm sorry." Ayn's voice cracked. "Is there anything we can do?" He shook his head.

"Please just leave. I hate to be rude but she is sleeping now and I don't need her awake and crying again." Ayn and Draco turned away from the house and got back in the taxi.

"Could you take us back to where you picked us up please?" The taxi driver nodded and started the car.

G lapped at the luke warm water as the screen in the kitchen babbled away. A creaking came from closet door and G stopped drinking. He snapped his head towards the hallway. With a click, the closet door opened. The cat relaxed and trotted over to the closet.

"Do you remember me? It's been a while hasn't it. You've always been a good cat."

Ayn waved her wand in front of the door knob. It swung open and slammed shut once she and Draco had entered. She dropped her cloak on the floor and filled a glass with water. It had been a long trip for nothing but it had been nice to get out of London for once. Draco slumped in a chair and watched the news. Ayn swirled the ice around her glass so it made a delicate clinking noise.

"Do you know where G is?"

"No."

A few minutes passed and G's mewing echoed down the hall. Ayn picked up her water and followed G's purring. She leaned against the wall with arms crossed.

"Come here G." The cat paced at the other end of the hall and whipped his tail around. G didn't make another sound but continued to weave around just like he would around Ayn's legs. "Are you okay G. Come here." As Ayn's eyes adjusted to the light, another figure appeared. Her glass of water clattered to the floor and the sound of Draco getting up from his chair came from the kitchen.

"Are you okay Ayn?" Draco called. Whoever was at the other end of the hall took a step forward.

"Hello Ayn." The person leaned down and picked up G.

"But. But. But your. Your dead."


	8. Identity Theft

"Well. Yes. We don't have time for that now. I'll explain that later. Where's your husband?" Ayn took a few steps backwards. "I'm not going to hurt you Ayn. I need to talk to you. Its of utmost importance. Both of you." Ayn continued to back away.

"Draco come here." He entered the hallway quickly and grasped hold of Ayn's hand.

"Are you okay?" He squeezed her hand. She nodded and motioned towards the other end of the hallway. Draco's eyes grew bigger. "Bloody hell!"

"Enough chit chat. Get in the bathroom." Hermione Granger pulled her wand from beneath her rooms and pushed them into the bathroom. Hermione turned on the hot and cold water in the sink, threw open the shower curtain and turned the shower on too. She flushed the toilet a few times and then whispered a few spells. "How much time until the water is turned off do you think?"

"Probably about five minutes."

"That gives me enough time."

"But."

"Listen you are going to have to trust me Ayn. I can tell you're worried. You've trusted me in the past and you're going to have to trust me now. I'll explain everything later. If you can trust him. You can trust me." Hermione motioned towards Draco. Ayn nodded. "Now we need to get you out of here. Your names have come up on a red flag list. They popped up on the intel list this morning so it will probably be a week before they come after you." Hermione rifled through the cabinet as she spoke. She occasionally tossed a bottle in a bag she had hidden inside her cloak.

"But what did we do?"

"Its not so much what you did, but what he didn't do." Hermione alluded to Draco again. "Plus your father has lost the favor of the Dark Lord. He expected to conquer the Dutch by now, but there have been... Well let's call them complications. He blames it on your father." Ayn had not spoken to her father in four years. Not since her mother's death.

"What is this all about?" Draco bellowed.

"Its about getting Ayn to safety. And unfortunately, our plan must include you because you are her husband and if she disappeared you would be questioned."

"Relax. Go on Hermione." Ayn glared at Draco.

"Your papers allow you to travel to the north for the rest of the weekend correct?"

"Through Monday. We are supposed to be back at work by Tuesday."

"That will work perfectly. We're going north. Now gather up everything that will be useful. Medicine, food, water, clothing. Just nothing that will give you away as pure-bloods. You can lose your cloaks. I have some for you to wear." Draco walked out of the bathroom and began to gather his clothing.

"How do I know you're really Hermione?" Ayn was still shaken and unsure if she should trust this possible Hermione impostor.

"Eleven years ago you visited me at my parents house to join my fight for elf rights. I doubt any else knows that." Hermione smiled. Ayn nodded and pulled her old friend into a tight hug.

Ayn and Draco packed in silence. Hermione had each given them a bottomless bag to fill with the essentials. Ayn folded everything gently while Draco shoved his clothing in bunches. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and stopped packing.

"I'm sorry I was rude about your dream and what not."

"Its okay. I understand." Ayn looked him in the eyes for a moment and then turned back to packing. "Hurry up. We have to leave soon."

Hermione handed them both a patched black cloak.

"You are going to need new identities until we reach some part of England where we can travel on foot. Do you have your papers?" Ayn handed Hermione the travel papers. With a few taps of her wand, Hermione transformed their identities." Hermione handed the papers back. "You are now Penelope Plath and Jeremy Plath. You are half-bloods who live and work in London." In addition to the change in name, birthday, etc, the papers had a new picture on them, and different finger prints. Ayn's picture was of an athletic looking woman, a few years older than herself, with shoulder length blonde hair, gray eyes, a narrow nose, and thin lips. Draco's was of an older man with graying hair, thick eyebrows, a crooked nose, and glasses.

"How are you going to make us look like them?" Draco asked. Hermione muttered a few spells and in a matter of minutes, along with a little pain, Draco and Ayn looked exactly like the pictures on their papers.

"I will be your niece who has been living with you since your sister and brother in law died. Your brother in law died in a muggle car accident on his way up north. Your sister died from heart break." Ayn nodded. Heart break was the accepted way of telling someone about a suicide. Hermione marched into the kitchen and let the door swing shut behind her. Ayn followed her but instead of finding Hermione, she was greeted by a thin teenager with gray eyes, a button nose, messy brown hair, and a scar that stretched from beneath Hermione's lower lip to the center of her chin. Hermione and Ayn started shoving non perishable food into Hermione's magical bag. "We have to leave now." Draco entered the kitchen with a weathered leather suitcase in one hand and a winter coat in another. "You will no longer call me Hermione. I am now Elizabeth Jones. You are not to use your wands until I say you are allowed to. When we reach Scotland I will destroy your wands. If we need to fight someone, I expect both of you to get behind me and let me use my wand unless I say otherwise." Ayn nodded and Draco shrugged his shoulders. "You can let the cat out now. He knows where to go." Hermione kneeled and scratched G's head. "Goodbye Crookshanks. You've been a very good cat."

Hermione motioned for Draco and Ayn to exit the apartment. She flicked her wrist and stream of turquoise flowed from the tip of her wand. The small group turned their backs to the now closed door and followed Crookshanks/G down the stairs and out of the apartment building.


	9. Old Memories

Ayn crushed the remains of her bread into crumbs between her thumb and forefinger. The crumbs fell to the lap of her rough dark corduroys and Ayn brushed them off.

There was little to do on the almost six hour bus ride from London to the final bus stop in Northern England. Ayn and Hermione had spent most of the time playing the Muggle game "I spy" and taking turns reading the thin copy of an old novel Ayn had brought with her. Draco sat behind them dozing off and on and occasionally staring out the window at the passing countryside. The once green hills rolled past and the dingy bus jumped a few feet in the air as it rumbled across small bridges with missing planks. Even though the English countryside looked vastly different from the winding, cluttered streets of London it also had the look of neglect about it, from the dry rivers to the roads covered with overgrown weeds.

Ayn let her head rest on the window and closed her eyes. Four hours before, they had passed through the last deportation camps. Ayn had strained her neck for any sign of Hadrian's familiar back or slump but she had no luck. That was about the same time that Draco stopped attempting to talk to her. He did not want to hear about Hadrian Rosier ever again. Leaving London had seemed to be the official end of Ayn's past life. Or so he thought.

Ayn had attempted to talk to Hermione a few times throughout the day but with a slight shake of Hermione's head, she kept quiet. When Hermione did speak, she spoke in a code that was quickly created while walking to the bus stop.

"We'll be able to grab a bite to eat in town before we walk over to Grandmum's." Ayn understood that as "Soon we'll be able to talk freely." "You'll find some bread in my bag". Ayn understood this as "Stow your wand in my bag." With each of these code sentences Ayn's skin tingled because she knew that in a short time she would be walking across the border to Scotland.

The bus pulled up next to a shack leaning to the left and stopped with a few jerks. Hermione nudged Ayn and stood up. Draco stood up, pushed his glasses back on his face and grabbed his bags. Ayn clung to Hermione's sleeve as they shuffled to the bus' exit. With a hiss the bus door swung shut behind Ayn, Hermione, and Draco. They were practically in Scotland.

hr

It was colder up North. Not by much but Ayn was still thankful for the thick cloak Hermione had given to her. The small group turned around to watch the bus chug away back towards London. There was no form of legal transportation between England and Scotland so Ayn, Hermione, and Draco would be forced to walk across the border. A light snow had started to fall. The flakes were not the crisp white ones of Ayn's childhood in Wales but the color of aluminum and the texture of the dirty snow left over a week after the actual snowfall. The snow left dark marks on Ayn's face and blotches on Draco's glasses. The Dark Lord had even conquered Mother Nature.

"We should go inside." Hermione motioned towards the small shack. It barely looked big enough to hold Hermione, but somehow all three of them managed to fit inside. "We will leave after twelve and travel for three hours. That will give us more than enough time to make it to Grandmum's." Ayn nodded and tucked her head under her cloak's hood. Hermione curled up next to the door with her arm thrust into the crook of her elbow where her wand was hidden. Draco turned his face away from both of them and simply fell asleep. A mix of nerves and slightly moldy bread made eating impossible. Even though memories of life in London and her family plagued Ayn, her exhaustion soon overcame her worries.

hr

i

Ayn ran her finger along the fence on her left. She still couldn't understand why her mother felt the need to walk to the Academy. They would have arrived on time and much faster by appearting or using floo powder. Instead she had chosen to walk through the dingy streets of wizarding London to the Academy.

As Ayn and her mother turned the corner a loud noise erupted from the huge building looming in front of them. They had reached the famous, or rather infamous, Academy. The Academy of the Dark Arts and Magic had opened the year before in London after the Dark Lord closed Hogwart's.

The new school resembled the famous school of witchcraft and wizardy in no way, shape or form. Students no longer stayed in dorms but traveled to and from the school everyday. Naturally, only the children of the greatest Pureblood families from Great Britain were invited to study under the Deatheaters and the great intellectuals of the Dark Arts. In some cases, a student would receive the honor of studying with the Dark Lord himself. Ayn was one of these select students. She and her sisters had spent their entire years prior to the war in the Welsh countryside where they were home schooled by witches and wizards from all over the world. From an early age, Ayn had shown promise in many areas of magic but her greatest gift was her expertise in both Occlumency and Legimens. Ayn had studied with Severus Snape before he died in the war, and now at seventeen her skills would be tested by Lord Voldemort himself.

In one awkward movement, Ayn's mother had her arm around her daughter and hugged her. The pair parted in front of the gates and once she had rounded the corner, Ayn's mother disapperated. Rather than go indoors, Ayn swung around and headed north. Two blocks later she slipped down an alleyway, crossed a wobbly bridge, climbed a fireescape and knocked on an appartment's window.

"Took you long enough." Hermione Granger teased Ayn.

"I had to make sure she actually left, rememeber last time." The previous week Ayn had to lie to her mother about a "field trip" she was going on with class to prevent her mother from discovering the truth.

"Come on in. Everyone else is already here." Hermione opened the window just enough to enable Ayn to crawl inside. Pillows were scattered on the floor of the dingy appartment floor a number of easels were set up behind the couch in the middle of the room. Hadrian Rosier patted the open space on the couch and Ayn streched out next to him.

"How's mum?" Hadrian brushed Ayn's hair out of her eye and handed her a cigarette.

"Lovely as usual. Just lovely." Ayn smirked and stuck the cigarette between her lips.

"Hey! Don't get too cozy over there you two!" Dean Thomas tossed a dirty sock at the couple. Izzy Cooks entered the living room with a blanket dragging behind her and a bottle of Firewhiskey in her hand.

"Have a sip or two?" She passed the bottle around and sank her head into one of the pillows on the floor. Eoin Wrights took a sip or two of the alcohol and placed in the middle of the semi circle the group had created. "Kaz couldn't make it. She had some community service thing. Something about burning books written by muggleborns." Hermione shook her head.

"I'm tired of this waiting and hidding. Hiding and waiting. Its so damn boring!" Eoin patted Hermione on the head.

"You know better then any of us about what is going on out there, when things are going to happen. It will happen soon enough. Its like the calm before the storm. Just stay safe okay?" Hermione was in hiding in London while Harry had "relocated", escaped, to Wales, and Ron was hiding in Scotland. Through Dean, Hermione had met Eoin who introduced her to Izzy who then introduced Dean to Hadrian. Izzy also introduced Ayn to Hermione and from there Ayn and Hadrian had met through SPEW. Kaz was dragged along by Izzy, her sister, for the ride.

"I know. But I've been worried lately. The added cerfew, and the newspapers. What they have been saying. I think its making you're neighbors suspicious." Hermione nodded towards the wall of the apartment.

"Don't worry, No one around here is a Pureblood sympathizer. Most of them are muggleborns anyway." Hadrian stated reassuringly. Hermione smiled and Ayn snuggled closer to Hadrian.

hr

Ayn stepped into the grand hall of the Academy and whipped her cloak off. The short man at the sign in table took her cloak and nodded.

"Good morning Miss Ivers." The man signed next to her name on a piece of parchment and passed his wand over hers. With her identity confirmed, Ayn swept down the hallway, pulling her dark hair back simultaniously. No other students were in the hallways. Ayn's lessons started in the middle of second period and lasted until the end of third. She would not see any other students until she left for the day and possibly picked something up to eat in the great hall.

Candles sputtered in the hall outside the Occlumency and Legilimens classroom. Ayn raised her hand to knock on the door but withdrew her hand. She glanced down at her watch and raised her hand again. While counting down the seconds under her breath, Ayn watched the second hand on her watch grow closer to the twelve. He hated when she was late. He hated it even more when she was early. The first and last time Ayn had arrived early for her lesson had ended in disaster. She had knocked on the door and entered as usual. He had been leaning over a large stone basin in the far corner of the room with his wand resting against his temple. The bottom of the stone basin glistened with the eerie light of a full moon. His face looked ghastly in the dim light and his scarlet eyes squinted to a thin line.

"How dare you!" He had shrieked racing across the room. He had grabbed Ayn's hair slammed her against the stone floor and pointed his wand towards his head.

"I'm sorry My Lord!" Ayn had pulled her knees close and pressed her face against her pants.

"I should kill you now." The Dark Lord had sunk into the chair behind his desk and waved his hands for Ayn to rise. "But you must succeed me."

From that day on, Ayn had counted down the seconds until her lesson to insure/ensure she never disturbed him again. Only Hadrian knew that the Dark Lord had to place some of his memories in a Pensive before giving his weekly Occlumency and Legilimens lessons to Ayn. And it would stay that way.

hr

/I

"Ayn. Ayn." Hermione grasped her friend's shoulders and shook them gently. "Its snowing. We have to go." Ayn sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"What do you need me to do?" Hermione motioned towards Ayn's feet.

"I have to Charm your shoes to cover up the tracks you leave in the snow." Hermione whispered a few words and then stood up. "Draco is already prepared to leave. We have to go now." Hermione placed her hand on the door knob but Ayn grabbed her wrist.

"Where are we going?"

"To the safe house. All your questions will be answered there, and then some." Hermione opened the door just enough to slip through and lead the couple through the snow to the safe house in the Scottish hills.


End file.
